We Learned from the Very Best
by LindenMae
Summary: TYL!Yamamoto/ TYE!Gokudera. Sometimes revisiting your past can help you to better your future.


**I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!**

As the fog cleared, pink like the spun sugar he used to get at the town festivals and twice as suffocating, he found himself standing on home plate at Namimori Middle's baseball field, completely alone save for the purple bazooka, no doubt responsible for his presence. A scuffed and slightly dented aluminum bat lay at his feet next to a well worn ball that had clearly seen its fair share of dusty mitts. He crouched and picked the ball up, relishing the familiar feel of it against his palm and ignoring the layer of dust adhering to the folds of his suit.

He remembered the rough feel of the seams on his skin and the smooth peel of the ball as his fingers closed around it, prepared to send it rocketing through the air, path straight and true. He sighed, almost sadly, as he contemplated it. Hadn't that always been true of him? Happy, lighthearted Yamamoto Takeshi; always smiling, always laughing, but a demon of intensity when he finally chose to focus. Once he found a target nothing could deter him until he made impact and the ump called it a strike.

The sun bore down on his back as he thought, alone in his head and alone on the field, and glinted off the simple gold band on his left hand. He didn't think to wonder where Lambo was or who had triggered the bazooka and brought him here. Five minutes didn't matter that much in the long run and he didn't mind spending them looking at a baseball. It had been the single most important thing in his young life at one point, not in this time he'd returned to, but once.

"Oi, baseball idiot!"

Yamamoto stiffened at the familiar voice, younger and slightly less graveled, but unmistakable. He could sense the younger male coming up behind him but he didn't turn, didn't know how much he wanted to face the silver haired bomber of his past. He could get away with evading Gokudera for five minutes and leave his younger self to deal with the bomber's wrath, as cowardly a move as it would be.

"Oi! Did you hear me? Did you see where that fucking cow went? I swear I'm going to wring his neck when I find him, worthless waste, constantly putting the Tenth in danger. Are you listening to me?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, tight and angry with indignity, pulling on his body in effort to force him to turn around. He could imagine the face he would encounter if he gave into that pull, fierce and angry and still slightly naïve even after everything they'd already been through by this point.

"What makes you think you can ignore me, baseball freak? I asked you a goddamned question!"

He sighed again, heavy with the realization that ignoring Gokudera, especially a sixteen year old Gokudera, wouldn't be all that easy to do.

Hadn't it been five minutes yet?

Gokudera's hand fell away like a leaf as he rose to his full height, towering well over the younger boy, and turned, dropping the ball unceremoniously at his feet.

"_You…_" The bomber's face scrunched up in disgust and disbelief as recognition came over him and he backed away.

"Ahaha… _me._" Yamamoto laughed, uncomfortable, and scratched at the back of his neck with his left hand, unconsciously hiding his ring. "I didn't see the kid. But I guess he musta been here cos I'm here and all."

Gokudera scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Great. How long have you been here?"

"Ahhh, a few minutes I guess?"

"You _guess_?"

Yamamoto shrugged and offered his young companion a sheepish smile. "I don't really know."

He tried to stop himself from looking but his eyes seemed to have minds of their own, taking in the other's appearance despite the little pangs of loneliness and misery that shot straight to his heart as he did. He tried not to look too long, just long enough to get a solid glimpse of all the physical attributes that hadn't really changed so much over the years: the silver hair, pale skin, fiery green eyes, and the semi-permanent scowl that he never showed to Tsuna.

He knew he was no different from anyone else, feeling nostalgic for his youth, for baseball and this feisty, arrogant boy standing in front of him. He didn't dislike his life but he often wondered what could have been and where he could have gone if he and the mafia had never met. Not that he would ever trade it, because there was one aspect of his life that made it all worthwhile and it went hand in hand with the mafia. He couldn't have one without the other and he'd learned that the hard way more than once.

"God. I should have remembered that you were still an idiot even after ten years."

Yamamoto tried to smile at him but he could feel it fall flat. He was tired and as much as he thought he should have been enjoying this ultra rare chance to indulge in pushing Gokudera, knowing that he had the upper hand and would only have to worry about a few live explosives, he really just wanted to get out of his starchy suit and crawl into bed, preferably one with a warm body waiting for him.

But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"What's wrong with you?" Gokudera's eyes narrowed and Yamamoto found himself drowning in the severe, green scrutiny they leveled against him. He marveled that a kid, no matter who it was or who he would eventually be, could have such an effect on him but he was glued to the spot on which he stood, actually feeling uncomfortable under Gokudera's gaze.

He widened his own eyes and shifted slightly. Damn it, hadn't it been five minutes _yet_?

"I don't know what you mean…"

"Your smile. It's wrong."

"My smile…?" He dropped his hand in surprise and actually faltered.

"Yes, your _smile._ It doesn't reach your eyes. I don't like it."

Yamamoto was immediately taken aback by the amount of emotion in the bomber's glare and found his grin growing a little wider, a little truer.

"I didn't know that you _ever_ liked my smile, Hayato."

Gokudera's eyes widened almost imperceptibly but his stance remained unchanged, stubborn and angry as ever. "I don't! But now you look stupid and sad whereas before you just looked stupid. And, what the fuck, don't call me that!"

"Ahh, sorry. I guess that's what happens when you grow up, huh? You changed too, you know."

"How?"

"You got calmer. You haven't tried to blow any of us up in years."

"Well then I must have caught the stupid because you obviously deserve it."

Yamamoto could almost feel his skin wrinkling around his eyes as his smile grew.

"Ahaha, I've missed you, Hayat- Gokudera. I guess I forgot how much. You've been gone a long time."

The color drained from Gokudera's face as he processed Yamamoto's words and the swordsman quickly realized he'd made a mistake when he'd spoken. The bomber's arms fell to his sides and hung there, his hands useless and open instead of making fists as they were prone to do in situations that didn't suit him.

"Oh Gokudera, I… I didn't mean…"

"Am I dead?"

Yamamoto raised his hands in supplication and edged towards the visibly shaken teen but he was thrown off, roughly, and a spark of fire returned to Gokudera's eyes, shining beneath a film of unshed tears.

"Fuck you! Am I _fucking dead_?"

"No. Gokudera, no… I'm sorry. You're not… dead… you're just not around that much. You're busy… being Tsuna's right hand and all."

"Idiot." The bomber breathed, still shaking and trying to hide the relief that was seeping into his bones. "Of course I'm busy being the Tenth's right hand. A worthless baseball freak like you could never handle the honor and the duty."

"Ah yea, I guess not."

Yamamoto brought his hands to his face and scrubbed roughly at his skin with his palms. These were turning out to be the longest five minutes of his life.

"The _fuck_ is that?"

The older man stilled his movements, confused. He dropped his hands slowly and eyed the teen with weary curiosity. The color still hadn't returned to his cheeks and he looked almost sicker than he had when he'd thought his life was going to be short lived.

"What's what, Hayato?" He asked, his voice clearly expressing his growing exhaustion.

The boy's eyes were trained on his hands, peridot flames dancing behind a shimmering curtain of tears that immediately kicked Yamamoto in the gut in a bad way. He saw the fist coming his way, of course he did, but he didn't try to stop it or dodge. He allowed Gokudera to grab a handful of his shirt front and pull him forward as the bomber's other hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and thrust the back of his own hand into his face. The angle caused the sun to catch on his ring and suddenly he understood with a mind numbing clarity.

He wondered how his ten years younger self would have reacted seeing a ring like this on the older Gokudera's hand but he couldn't truly know. It was just a bit of metal after all and he would probably understand that. He understood it now, didn't he?

"Oh… that."

"The fuck is it?" Gokudera's thin frame trembled, as if he was desperately trying to hold in his obvious anger, something he'd gotten much better at as time had passed. "Is that a fucking wedding ring? Are you _married_?"

Yamamoto's shoulders sagged. He was too tired for this. Way too tired. His emotions were at war within his body, half of him aching to pull the obviously hurting boy into his arms and whisper away his worries with soothing words, the other half very quickly getting fed up and angry with the entire situation.

"The bazooka's broken." He muttered under his breath as he gingerly removed himself from Gokudera's grip and hid the offending hand behind his back. "I'm not married."

The words didn't seem to calm Gokudera down any.

"It's kind of an engagement ring."

There was a pregnant and uncomfortable silence that weighed heavy between them and Yamamoto looked away, unsure how to proceed.

"Is she pretty?"

Yamamoto glanced sharply at the teen in front of him, shocked at the question. He'd been expecting another fist or angry outburst, not a poor attempt at a calm inquisition. He didn't know how to answer without upsetting the boy further so he settled for the ever trusty ruse that knowing too much about the future would change it and he meant it. That little piece of metal was more important to him than he liked to let on. There was a reason he hadn't taken it off, after all.

"It's probably best that I don't tell you. Wouldn't want to change the future or anything, you know, haha."

"Don't give me that crap!" Gokudera's voice broke and Yamamoto's resolve, already weak when it came to anything having to do with the bomber, shattered.

"Look, Hayato…"

"Don't call me that, you fucker!"

Yamamoto ran a hand through his hair and glanced around the field, hoping that anything or anyone would interrupt them.

"I think that there are some things that you and my younger self might need to work out if the thought of me being married in the future bothers you so much."

He smiled a little at the horrified look that spread across Gokudera's face.

"It doesn't… it doesn't bother me! I couldn't care less if you found some girl stupid enough to marry you. I'm just worried about the family! You get distracted too easily. I wouldn't want you to forget your duties because you're too busy paying attention to your dumb wife and making baseball idiot babies!"

Yamamoto wanted to laugh. Gokudera was really too cute at this age, but he knew that laughing at Gokudera would only upset the teenager further and he was too tired to enjoy being blown up at the moment.

"I don't think that's something you need to worry about, Haya- Gokudera. My ties to the family have never been stronger."

Gokudera narrowed his, suspiciously red rimmed, eyes and glowered at him in disbelief.

"Ahh don't look at me like that. It's true. My fiancé 's in the family."

Clearly the wrong thing to say… _again. _Gokudera crossed his arms over his chest and almost seemed to hug himself, closing his body off from the older Yamamoto in front of him. He looked miserable despite the mask of anger he was still attempting to wear. A breeze picked up and blew Gokudera's hair about his face but he didn't bother to fix it or pull it back. He looked as if he could break down any second but Yamamoto knew he wouldn't do that. Too proud.

"Chrome?" His lower lip trembled briefly and his defense faltered. "No… Haru?"

Yamamoto couldn't help but take a step towards the younger boy but Gokudera only stepped back and looked away, a shadow of his normally vibrant self. It shook Yamamoto to see him like this. He could only remember one other time he'd ever seen the bomber so sad, so broken, and they'd fixed that so sometimes he wasn't sure if he remembered it at all.

"Hayato please… don't do this. I love my fiancé. I don't want to change anything in my future by revealing too much now."

"Just tell me! Just tell me who the fuck it is that you love so much that you could tie yourself to her forever! Tell me right now so that I can get the fuck over you before I end up as miserable as you fucking are! That's why I left, isn't it? Because you found someone else and I couldn't stand to be around you. If you tell me now then I'll have ten years to get over it and I won't have to leave and we can all just be fucking merry mafia men forever!"

"Gokudera… you're being irrational."

"Fuck rational! Just fuck it! I fucking hate you!"

"I forgot how much you cared, Hayato. I guess I convinced myself that you never loved me. Haha, stupid huh?"

"I don't fucking love you…"

Yamamoto felt the scar on his chin pull as he smiled, he felt his eyes wrinkle and his cheeks burned with the effort. It felt comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time, like an old friend he'd lost touch with. He gave into the urge then and pulled the young boy into his arms despite his struggles and held him tight.

"I love you, Hayato. I've always loved you."

"Let me go, baseball idiot! I fucking hate you. Don't try to turn this into something it's not."

Yamamoto pressed his face into the bomber's hair and breathed in the familiar scent of gunpowder and tobacco, closing his eyes tightly against the tears brimming behind his lashes.

"Tell me that you love me, Hayato. Sometimes I forget and… you just have to tell me."

Gokudera squirmed in Yamamoto's embrace and tried to pull away but the swordsman held on tight. Yamamoto ran a hand down Gokudera's back, fingertips trailing lightly against his spine, feeling every prominent vertebra. Gokudera arched into the touch and quit his struggles, opting to stand still and allow the swordsman, even if it wasn't quite the right swordsman, to hold him.

Yamamoto pressed a kiss to the bomber's pale temple and then just below his ear, felt his pulse beneath his lips and smiled against his skin. It felt so nice, so right, to have this angry young man back in his arms. Even if this wasn't really _his_ Gokudera, it was the closest he'd been to any Gokudera in too long and he'd tried to be strong but he just couldn't. He was selfish and weak and if the future changed because he couldn't control himself right now then he'd worry about that later.

"I love you, Hayato." He whispered before he pressed his lips against the bomber's, lightly at first and then with more force when the teenager didn't stop him. He dropped his hand to the front of Gokudera's pants and, with nimble fingers, undid the clasp and the zipper and slipped his hand in without warning. Gokudera tensed and then relaxed, gasping into Yamamoto's mouth and allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue between pale pink lips.

He closed his hand around Gokudera's already half hard member and thrilled at the vibrations the younger male made against his chest when he moaned. He curled his fingers and twisted his wrist and Gokudera shook in his arms and suddenly Yamamoto felt thin fingers digging into biceps, as if for dear life.

He knew it wouldn't take long to make this Gokudera lose it. He knew every trick that Gokudera liked, every touch that would send him over the edge, and this Gokudera was inexperienced, pliant. He may have been screwing himself in the long run by giving the bomber the best first hand job of his life but he would learn and he'd get to this point eventually.

He cupped the back of Gokudera's head with his free hand and dug his fingers into the fine silvery hair he found there, anchoring him in place as he dragged his thumb across the slit in Gokudera's head and twisted his wrist again just so. Gokudera clung to him as he came, gasping and panting and moaning in a way that made Yamamoto want to take him right then, no matter what their age difference might be at the moment, and just hold him like that forever, so that he could never leave him again.

He pressed his lips into Gokudera's hair again as he quickly tucked the drained boy away. There was a mess on his shirt and on Gokudera's but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it. When he felt a queer tug in his chest he was at least aware enough to be grateful that he hadn't left the bomber in too much of a state of disarray and to hope that his younger self hadn't decided to go wandering around. The cotton candy fog enveloped his body and pulled him away from his young lover and he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

xXx

When the fog cleared, a young Yamamoto with a grin so wide it was a wonder his face didn't split, found himself face to face with a young Gokudera who looked disheveled to say the least.

"Haha, Gokudera what happened to you?" He overlooked the suspicious stain on the front of the bomber's t-shirt, too delirious with excitement about what he'd seen in his future. "Gokudera, guess what! I went to the future and I learned something and it might make you mad now but it made me so happy. I have to tell you. Gokudera, in the future, we're – oomph!"

Gokudera didn't care about the future, or well he did, but his experience had forced him to understand something that this Yamamoto didn't know. He had to tell Yamamoto that he loved him and maybe he couldn't exactly say the words just yet but actions spoke louder anyway. So he grabbed two fistfuls of the front of Yamamoto's shirt and pulled him close, pressing their lips together a little too forcefully. It was awkward and uncomfortable and their teeth hit and pinched their lips but it said everything that they couldn't articulate and it convinced Gokudera that maybe Yamamoto wouldn't be so sad in the future and it convinced Yamamoto that the future he'd seen would be the one he would get and he'd smile forever for that.

xXx

When Yamamoto landed and could see again, he was relieved to find himself standing in his own room, no awkward situation where he would have to explain what was covering the front of his shirt. That feeling faded when he saw his fiancé sitting cross legged on their bed, an amused smirk twisting up his lips.

"Ahh… haha. I guess I musta changed the future then." He looked down sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck, ring glinting dully in the muted light.

"Nothing changed. I was walking into the room right as the fog appeared, though you didn't exactly try very hard, did you? I suddenly remember my first hand job being pretty fucking amazing."

"Haha sorry, Hayato. I couldn't help myself." His expression suddenly turned serious and he looked up at the man before him, silver hair pulled back into a ponytail, green eyes glinting with something soft that he hadn't seen in a long time. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?"

Gokudera looked down and played with the edge of a pillow. "I was afraid you would tell me not to come. I asked Tsuna for some time off… for the both of us."

"You… you did? How long?"

Gokudera smiled at the utterly hopeful look on his lover's face. "A month or two… long enough for a honeymoon."

And Yamamoto smiled so widely that his eyes practically glowed when it hit them.


End file.
